THE SUIT
This costume of an older me
Does not sit well upon my frame
Each stage with attending uncertainty
Not the suit in which I came
Remembering childhood’s exotic clothes
Allowing oneself the luxury
Recalling pleasures not the woes
To bask in simple reverie
Favourite secret places gone
Quarry, pond and places dark
Different children jump my stones
Their arrows find a different mark
Paths and houses, muted, still
I stand alone amongst my friends
Black against white, a bird stares back
At this version of my earlier self
The memory still astounds me now
For no reason that is plain to tell
A sense of wonder, deep content
My earlier, suit it fit me well
Stuart Williamson Estero, Feb. 2015 ©
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
THE SUIT
This costume of an older me
Does not sit well upon my frame
Each stage with attending uncertainty
Not the suit in which I came
Remembering childhood’s exotic clothes
Allowing oneself the luxury
Recalling pleasures not the woes
To bask in simple reverie
Favourite secret places gone
Quarry, pond and places dark
Different children jump my stones
Their arrows find a different mark
Paths and houses, muted, still
I stand alone amongst my friends
Black against white, a bird stares back
At this version of my earlier self
The memory still astounds me now
For no reason that is plain to tell
A sense of wonder, deep content
My earlier, suit it fit me well
Stuart Williamson Estero, Feb. 2015 ©
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